


sixty percent cotton, forty percent polyester

by nihilego



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: M/M, Multi, Sharing Clothes, jere is really fucking bi in chap 3, michael is far gayer in this fic than i expected him to be, sharing is a strong word but yeah, this is kinda a 8+1 thing or whatever
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-03
Updated: 2017-12-16
Packaged: 2019-02-10 06:12:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12905826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nihilego/pseuds/nihilego
Summary: Jeremy just huffs and brings the scarf up higher on his face in an attempt to hide the embarrassed blush he’s currently sporting. Another negative about Jeremy’s stealing habits: he’ll get embarrassed when he’s called out on it. And an embarrassed Jeremy means a blushy Jeremy, and a blushy Jeremy is an illegal level of cute that Michael can not deal with.So he just ignores that little feeling in the pit of his stomach, and herds his best friend into their next period, hoping they make it before the bell.---or, the one in which jeremy steals every piece of his friend's clothes he can get his hands on, instead of asking to borrow them like a normal person.





	1. intro + michael

There are many things wrong with Jeremy Heere.

Well, not _wrong_ per se, just….unique. These things aren't actually flaws, nothing that needs to be improved upon or erased, but they're still noticeable.

He bites his nails when he gets nervous (which is almost all the time, michael notes). His tongue will stick out just a little bit when he focuses. He's the only person on earth who can drink orange juice after brushing his teeth and not get grossed out. He can ramble off the first few rows of the Periodic Table despite the fact that he made a C in Chemistry. He never remembers to comb his hair in the morning.

He steals _everyone’s_ clothes. Absolutely everyone's. If you become Jeremy’s friend then your clothes are automatically forfeit. Michael cannot count how many times he's taken off his hoodie and two seconds later Jeremy’s wearing it (totally because jeremy was just cold. totally). 

And while these six new friends are important to Michael (how the hell he managed to let six strangers into his heart in just under a year is still a mystery), he'll always see them as new people for Jeremy to steal clothes from. Michael's been the only target for twelve years. It's great to turn around and still have your discarded clothes instead of seeing them hanging off a scrawny teen. Plus Michael always gets this weird feeling in his stomach—or is it his heart?—when he sees Jere cuddled in his Michael’s too large clothes, so he likes to keep that situation from happening.

The point is, Jeremy is an absolute thief. He's able to con everyone and anyone out of their discarded hoodies, their spare baggy shirts, whatever. It’s a skill Michael has no idea how he acquired, but it’s been there since forever, basically. It's apart of Jeremy. And Michael wouldn't change any part about him, ever.

-

1.

Jeremy is cold. 

Like, really fucking cold. Shaking and clattering teeth cold. Michael’s basement is super fucking cold because the heater is a piece of junk that keeps on turning off at random. Michael went to go fix it, but it’s still really cold. The covering of the beanbags are chill, and it doesn’t help that the only lights in the room are a lamp and the tv. Jeremy’s gonna freeze his ass off before Michael comes back.

Jeremy rocks his sock-covered feet against the floor, trying to think. There’s gotta be something he can put on in the room, a blanket or something, but nope, all that’s there are some old pillows, some dirty laundry—

Michael’s hoodie.

It’s dirty and smells stale, likely because it hasn’t been worn in a few days and left to air down in the musty basement, but it’s Michael’s hoodie. The soft red one covered in patches that has almost become apart of Michael’s daily wardrobe, given how much he wears it. Yeah, it really needs to be washed, but it’s soft and warm and—

Michael comes back to the basement to see Jeremy huddled up in his hoodie, trying to fit all of his body under the fleece garment. Like, seriously, he’s trying to fit his legs in it, which is stretching the hoodie out more than Michael would like. 

“Hey, stop that. I got the heater back on, so don’t stretch out my hoodie. You’ll make it baggier than it already is.”

“Sorry.” Jeremy withdraws his legs from out underneath the hoodie, but makes no move to take it off. He instead just snuggles into it more, even though in a few moments the room should be warm enough for Jeremy to survive with just his long-sleeve t-shirt.

Whatever. If Jere wants to wear Michael’s dirty hoodie, he can. The current one Michael’s got on will serve him fine until the room heats up. 

Sinking back down into his own bean bag, Michael grabs the remote and flips through the channels. Trying to beat Level Nine for the twentieth time in the row is exhausting, so mindless tv-watching is clearly the best recuperation method until they gain the energy to try again. 

A few minutes into a classic episode of _Spongebob_ Michael looks over at Jeremy. He's still wearing Michael’s red hoodie, even though the basement is a nice temperature and Jeremy is probably sweating under there. He's reclined against the bean bag chair, half opened eyes watching the tv, and hoodie slightly hiked up, so that the red fabric of the hood frames his face.

Michael quickly flicks his gaze from Jeremy to the basement’s ceiling, where glow-in-the-dark stars are stuck on, hazardly placed there by two excited ten year olds. He traces the pattern of the misshapen constellations with his eyes, hoping that it'll distract him enough from looking back at the other teen. He doesn't want Jeremy to notice Michael’s been staring at him. It's not only just tonight—Michael’s been sneaking looks at Jeremy for months. Just—something about Jeremy is so enchanting, so perfect despite all the flaws, that Michael can't look away. 

But Jeremy is not Michael’s to look at. So Michael watches cartoons with him and doesn't say anything, tries not to steal looks at the other boy too many times, and he doesn't let his hand bridge the gap between the bean bags and wrap around Jeremy’s. But nothing will change the fact that something in Michael stirs at the sight of the other boy in his hoodie.


	2. christine

2.

Christine has a definite sense of fashion.

Michael isn't really sure how to describe said sense, though. It's not Chloe’s type of fashion, which looks like it came out of a teen fashion magazine where all the models look closer to their thirties than to their teens. It isn’t Jenna’s either, which is the epitome of ‘I look good, but I’m not even trying it’s so effortless’. Or Brooke’s, which is less mainstream than Chloe’s, but is cuter and more quirky or whatever. Michael may be gay but that doesn't mean he knows shit about fashion. 

But Christine apparently has a gift: take any articles of clothing and make them all look good together. Michael's pretty sure she can make any clothes match. Blue shirt and a red hoodie covered in little pictures of dogs? Christine makes it look good. Orange ombre dress and old converse covered in paint from making theatre sets? Perfect autumn outfit. She must be a goddess of thrift store fashion with how good she is.

Today? Christine is wearing a soft blue dress, teal sneakers and a jacket, dark blue leggings, and a very long, apparently hand knitted green and blue scarf.

Now Christine may have a fashion sense, but Michael has a ‘clothes that Jeremy is definitely going to steal’ sense. And that scarf? Prime Jeremy stealing target. It's softness only adds to its appeal; Michael felt it in first period and he's pretty sure it's made of clouds.

Michael can see Jeremy is going for the ‘slowly steal over time’ approach with this one. They’re all in study hall together; Christine and Jeremy are going over a script while Michael’s powering through pre-calculus homework with the help of his study playlist. Jeremy must’ve been playing with the end of Christine’s scarf, because she’s hung one end of it over his neck, giving him a few inches of yarn to fiddle with. Step one of Jeremy’s plan has obviously been completed.

Every few minutes Michael looks away from his work and to the nerds sitting across him, and every few minutes Jeremy manages to squirrel a few more inches of the scarf. He's gotten almost half of it so far. Somehow Christine hasn't noticed, but anything theatre related is a good distraction for Christine, so it's not very surprising.

Then there's only a few minutes left in study hall, and the scarf is still wrapped around both Christine and Jeremy’s necks. Michael starts to put his stuff away (he, unfortunately, did not get done, and blames it entirely on jeremy’s little theft that's been happening all period), waiting to see how this will resolve itself. Either she'll give it to him, or she'll take it back, leaving Jeremy an uncovered, cold neck. Which will easily be solved, because Michael can just wrap his arm over Jeremy’s shoulders, like he always does.

“Oh. Um—Jere?”

“Yeah?”

“We’re kinda um,” Christine tried to stand up to grab her bag, but the scarf prevented her from moving away from Jeremy any more than a foot or two. “We’re stuck together, Jere.”

“Oh, shit, sorry,” Jeremy goes to unwrap the accessory from his neck, but Christine holds out her hand in the universal ‘stop’ motion.

“No, you can keep it! I’m getting kinda hot anyway.” 

“You sure?” Jeremy asks, like this wasn’t his goal all along. But Christine just nods, finishes unwrapping her side of the scarf, and dumps the rest of it on Jeremy’s head. Gravity brings most of it down to his shoulders, but one section stays on top of his head. It looks very dumb. Very, very dumb, but Michael resists the urge to reach over and knock it off.

“Welp, I gotta go!” Christine hefts her backpack onto her shoulders, script safely packed inside. “See you guys later!”

Michael gives a lazy wave goodbye to her, and Jeremy takes a few moments to drag his fingers away from the scarf to wave too. Michael can’t really understand the textile part of it, but he gets that the yarn the scarf is made of must be stim heaven for the other boy.

He lightly bumps Jeremy’s arm with his hand to get his attention, finally getting the other boy to focus on something other than his new accessory. 

“C’mon, lover boy. We gotta get to class—Mr. Woods is gonna be super pissed if we’re late again.”

“I’m not a ‘lover boy’, Michael.”

“Oh really? Don’t think I didn’t see you two wrapped up in the same scarf for the whole period. It was a very subtle move, Jere, very romantic.”

Jeremy just huffs and brings the scarf up higher on his face in an attempt to hide the embarrassed blush he’s currently sporting. Another negative about Jeremy’s stealing habits: he’ll get embarrassed when he’s called out on it. And an embarrassed Jeremy means a blushy Jeremy, and a blushy Jeremy is an illegal level of cute that Michael can not deal with.

So he just ignores that little feeling in the pit of his stomach, and herds his best friend into their next period, hoping they make it before the bell.


	3. jake

3.

Jake has really, really nice muscles.

This is not a fact that Jeremy is constantly aware of, believe it or not. He just gets reminded of it every time Jake takes off his jacket, or wears a short sleeve t-shirt. Or wears anything that's pretty form fitting— Jeremy has a suspicion that Jake consciously buys shirts that are too small as a punishment for the fraction of the school body that's attracted to boys (or the group of people solely attracted to him. jake-sexual was a joke that ran rampant sophomore year).

But unfortunately Jeremy does not have the pleasure of seeing Jake’s muscles right now—the only reason he's thinking about them is because Jeremy is watching Jake’s stuff for him, and Jake’s jacket is laid out on top of his bag in plain sight. And seeing his jacket leads to thoughts about his muscles, and Jeremy should not be thinking about those things, _Jesus—_

Jeremy instead tries to focus on the cold. Whoever decided that football was a fall and winter sport can go fuck themselves. And whoever decided to make their school bleachers cold, hard metal could also go fuck themselves. Jeremy had to take off his jacket and sit on it in order to make the bleachers bearable, but now his entire torso is incredibly cold. Again, fuck this sport, and fuck these bleachers.

At least the girls were smart enough to bring a blanket to sit on. Jeremy could share his pain with Rich or Michael, but Rich is pretty much standing at the fence cheering Jake on, and Michael made it very clear that he would instantly combust if he got within fifty feet of a sport. So Jeremy doesn't have any ‘about to freeze to death at a sports game’ buddies.

Jake’s jacket is still laying on top of his backpack.

Aren't football players supposed to have a locker room or some shit? Or did Jake purposely leave his stuff with them for some unknown reason? Either way, the jacket is very tempting. Jeremy doesn't know how good in the cold varsity jackets are, but they have to be better than a slightly thick sweater, right?

He tries to reason with his brain, say that _if he takes the jacket then he's gonna get called out on it, Jake might be mad_ , but his hand is already reaching for the garment. 

His brain still isn't listening as he shrugs the jacket on his shoulders. 

As Jeremy nestles into the warmth of the jacket, Chloe turns around as if to ask him something, but stops once she sees what he's doing (his face is warm, so there's probably a very visible blush across his face, but he's wearing the hottest guy in school’s jacket, sue him). She smirks and raises one eyebrow, as if to say _‘really?’._

“Shut up.”

“But I didn't say anything, Jerry.”

“Yes you were. With your face. And the eyebrow.”

Chloe raises her eyebrow even higher. And great, now the other girls are looking at him.

“Stop judging me. ‘s cold.”

“We’re not gonna judge you,” Now Brooke's in on the ‘embarrass Jeremy’ game. Fantastic. “If you want to wear your boyfriend’s jacket we’ll let you.”

“He’s not my boyfriend!” Jeremy yells, and now he's accidentally gotten the attention of everyone sitting around them. He sends an apologetic look to the new audience and a prayer to any god that’ll listen that this does not become a thing, and leans down to talk to Chloe and Brooke again. “Jake is _not_ my boyfriend.”

“Yeah, that's right.”

“Thank you.” Jeremy sighs, and then starts to lean back, ready to start paying half attention to the game, but then Chloe has to speak again.

“ _Michael_ is your boyfriend.”

Jeremy sputters, brain not generating any coherent thoughts. 

“ _Mi–Michael isn’t—”_

“Although if you wanted to have both Jake and Michael be your boyfriends you could, I’m sure they would both be cool with that.”

“Brooke!” Jeremy almost shrieks. He's pretty sure everyone around them tunes back into the conversation, and that his earlier blush is far more visible in the dark winter evening than it was before. “Michael _isn’t_ my boyfriend. Jake _isn't_ my boyfriend. I don't have a boyfriend.”

“Right. Okay. But you do want a boyfriend.”

“Chloe, no, oh my god.” Jeremy groans tiredly. A buzzer rings over the field, signaling a break or some shit. Who even knows with sports. 

Apparently Jeremy’s guess must of been right, because Jake and the rest of the players are heading off the field. While his teammates head to the benches reserved for the players, Jake grabs a bottle of water and starts walking over to where Jeremy and the girls are sitting, Rich trailing behind him. Something amazing must have happened on the field; Rich is excitedly talking to Jake, arms moving wildly and a large grin on his face.

“Jake! You were great out there!”

“Thanks,” Jake said, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. “Hopefully we’ll win, I don’t know if we’ve got the energy to keep it up.”

“Of course you guys are gonna win!” Leave it to Rich to be Jake’s personal one man cheering squad. “Have you, like, seen how the other teams playing? They’re too shitty to win against you guys.”

“I have seen how they play, Rich, I’m playing against them, remember?” Jake says, pausing right in front of where the rest of the group is sitting.

Then three things happen in rapid succession.

One: Jake takes a drink from the water bottle he grabbed earlier.

Two: Jake sees Jeremy in his jacket.

Three: Jake spits out all of the water he just drank onto Rich.

“Hey, what the fuck!”

“Jer— _Jeremy.”_

“Yeah, Jeremy’s here, doesn’t explain why you did a _spit take_ on me—”

“Jeremy.” Jake breathes out, eyes wide. Something must be wrong; Jake’s face is red and he’s biting his lip, obviously trying to think of what to say next. He swallows before he speaks again, and Jeremy tries not to follow the movement with his eyes. “Are yo—are you wearing my jacket?”

“Uh, y–yeah?” It’s clearly Jake’s jacket; Jeremy doesn’t own any varsity jackets, or anything really resembling it. And, while Jeremy’s clothes are usually baggy around his frame, the jacket is far too big on him to be his own. 

Suddenly, Jeremy realizes the issue—it’s Jake’s jacket, and Jeremy stole it off from on top of Jake’s stuff, putting it on without Jake’s permission. And yeah, he's got the reputation at the group’s resident clothes thief, but he usually only does that with Michael and Christine—he’s never taken clothes from Jake, and Jeremy doesn’t know how he feels about this.

Instantly, Jeremy is shrugging off the jacket as if it’s burned him.

“Sorry, I’ll take it off, sorry—”

“No! No, uh,” Jake blurts out instantly. His face is still pink, and Jeremy knows that he face must be a matching shade. “You can, um, keep it on. If you want.”

Jake breaks off his awkward rambling with a cough, and for a few moments no one else speaks. It doesn’t help that the girls keep on looking between the both of them with knowing expressions (jeremy isn’t sure of what they know, just that they _know_ ). At least Rich is kinda in the same boat, confusion evident on his face as he tries to shake off the water Jake spit on him.

“Well, I’m just gonna go back to the game—”

“Jake the break isn’t over yet.”

“I’m going back to the game!” Jake hurriedly insists, turning on his heel and almost dashing back towards the field.

“Jake Dillinger, everybody.” Chloe announces to the group, loud enough that Jake can probably still hear her. “Can't handle seeing a twink in his own jacket. Amazing.”

“Wait, was that what that was?” Rich looks up at Chloe confused, and then rapidly points to Jake and then to Jeremy. “He did that—because he—”

“Yep.”

“Oh my god. That's uh. Wow. Never would’ve thought.”

And now everyone knows what’s happening, except Jeremy. Why must the world conspire against him at all moments? It must be fun to keep him out of the loop at all times, at least to his friends. Maybe if Michael were here he would explain it, but then again Michael likes to see him flustered, so he would probably hold the answer over Jeremy’s head. He would have just been left out in the cold, both metaphorically and literally.

“Okay, I know no one's gonna do it, but anyone mind explaining what’s up with Jake?”

Brooke, Chloe, and Jenna exchange glances, obviously taking delight in his confusion and debating whether to end that, but Christine, sweet merciful Christine, finally throws him a bone.

“Jeremy, you ever watch _Grease_? Or, like, anything taking place in the 50s?”

“Yeah?” He and Michael have watched several 50s era movies; one of Michael’s moms is in love with that era’s aesthetic or something, so the Mell DVD library is basically just sci-fis and 50s rom-coms. He never really paid attention to them, though, and that’s biting him in the ass. “What does that have to do with any of this?”

“Do you know the thing where the main guy gives his varsity jacket to his girl? It’s a pretty common trope.”

“Uh, yeah, I’ve know it,” A few half-formed memories of decent at best rom-coms watched cuddled under a worn blanket with Michael springs up in Jeremy’s mind, but he’s still pretty confused. “I don’t see what that has to do with anythi—”

Suddenly, realization shoots through Jeremy’s mind like a arcing lightning bolt. Football players give their jackets to their girlfriends. Jake just gave Jeremy permission to wear his jacket. Jeremy is wearing Jake’s, a football player’s, jacket. 

Fuck.

“Jake’s not my boyfriend.” Jeremy’s brain decides it needs to state this fact first, in the wake of his revelation. “Th–this isn’t—this doesn’t _mean_ anything.”

“Jeremy’s gotta boyfriend, Jeremy’s gotta boyfriend,” Chloe mockingly singsongs, because apparently they’re all fifth graders. 

“Please stop.”

“Jeremy and Jake, kissin’ in a tree, K-I-S—”

“S-T-O-P.” Honestly, Jeremy is kinda done with this shit. He came out here to have a mediocre time; freezing his ass off and listening to playground-level taunting is not what he wanted to do tonight. “Seriously, how do I get you guys to stop?”

“Well,” Jenna draws out, and a feeling of dread settles in Jeremy’s stomach. He loves Jenna (in a friend way, of course) but he does not trust her, especially in a matter like this one. “We’ll all stop talking about this if you let me take a picture of you in Jake’s jacket.”

“Why would you even want that.”

“I need leverage over Jake. He’s such a boy scout that I barely have any blackmail on him.”

“Wouldn’t this be blackmail against me, though?”

“Please, Jeremy, I already got tons of dirt on you.” Jesus, that’s comforting. Jeremy tries to figure out what the hell she could have on him, but pretty much everything he does is embarrassing; any picture of Jeremy probably counts as blackmail. “If I promise to only use it against Jake will you let me take it?”

“Ugh, fine, okay,” Jeremy groans out after a few seconds of hesitation; he's glad that this whole thing is ending but he hates that this is the solution. “Take the photo.”

“Uh, not yet, Jeremy,” Jenna says, as if Jeremy should know she's not just gonna take it right away. “Photos of you are way better when they're candids. You look awful when you know there’s a camera.”

“Thanks, Jenna. I can really feel the love.”

“Oh hush you big baby,” Jenna replies sardonically. “Just watch the game and I’ll take the photo whenever.”

Resigned to becoming Jenna’s new blackmail material, Jeremy turns his attention back to the game just in time to see it resume from the break. Every now and then he’ll see Jenna point her phone towards him, accompanied with obnoxious clicking sounds. 

Jeremy just ignores her, nestles deeper into the fabric of the jacket, and tries to survive the cold.

**Author's Note:**

> uh i dont have anything really to say here so just 
> 
> thanks for reading this i'm not that good at writing but this idea was too cute to pass up
> 
> if you wanna talk to me about this fic either comment or send me an ask on my [ tumblr ](http://arieryn.tumblr.com/)


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